


The Second Chance

by RadScavver



Series: The Sole Survivor [8]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Gen, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Post Nuka World, Pre-Relationship, slight name-calling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 13:43:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18344846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadScavver/pseuds/RadScavver
Summary: Everyone's favorite Mayor goes to visit a friend.





	The Second Chance

Hancock is relaxing in the faint sea breeze. The trip to the Cats garage is actually pleasant when the weather’s good, plus there’s the knowledge that at the end he’ll get the absolute treat of seeing Vaultie out of her shell.

With a shiver, he lets his thoughts drift to darker tides. He imagines those generous curves have only filled out more in her sabbatical, and damn what he would give to get a handful. His mouth waters as he considers getting more than just a good grip. As the old Red Rocket starts to loom overhead, Hancock gives an absent thought to what Vaultie would taste like.

“No trespassers, pal!”

He pulls up short with a slight frown. Atop the razorwire crowned guard post, a set of flame-bedecked power armor aims a hunting rifle at him.

“You know me, buckethead,” the mayor calls out.

“And I know you assholes abandoned Slugger! Atom Cats don’t run like that, Jack. We stick together.”

“Look, I didn’t abandon anyone, and I’ve got a town to run. You know that and so does she.”

“Slugger needed you more than some shitbag gho-”

“ZEKE!”

Hancock startles. That was Vaultie...but what happened to her voice? With a grating creak, the gates begin to move apart. He warily palms his knife. There’s no telling why he might need it, but it’s gotten him out of more scraps than he’d like to think about. However, when he sees her, alone and solid and so very bare of her usual defenses, Hancock drops it.

She’s...exhausted. It’s there, written into her very body like a living poem: dripping down the slope of her shoulders, jutting sharp and tight like stress in her face, oozing black in the shadows under her eyes. That weight had lingered before only seems to have grown to a point unbearable. And it shows in more than just the strain she seems to radiate like a glowing one. There are scars now, so many everywhere. Silvery lines he’d recognize anywhere and too pink patches that remind him of Fahrenheit's past. A rainbow of furled knots following the curve of her shoulder towards her chest, vanishing under the dirty green of her top. Blades, fire, bullets. Beneath one eye, long and jagged, a scar carves a seam down her cheek to curl under her chin. It reappears at the base of her throat and disappears under her collar. What could’ve caused that?

“Oh, sweetheart, what happened to you?” he sighs.

Her eyes glint like sun off a scope.

“Your ‘ _sweetheart_ ’ died, Hancock.”

“Nah.” He has to snort at the crack of her voice. “You’ll always be my sweetheart. Ain’t a damn thing in the Commonwealth or beyond could change that.”

A fracture, a softening. Gone like a powder flash, stunning and brilliant in its fleeting nature.

“Then where…where _were_ you?”

“Goodneighbor with Mac. Without you around, good ol’ Garvey was getting a bit much. We didn’t even catch wind of you being back until about a week ago.”

Even the buckethead rears back at that. She’s watching him like dog does fresh meat.

“You...what?” she croaks. “What do you mean you just found out?”

Hancock rubs the back of his neck, hunching into himself. “Yeah, uh, after we left, Garvey sent word to all your outposts. Said we ‘abandoned the cause’ or something like that. Next thing we know, no one’s giving us the time of day. Hell, the settlements even stopped trading with us.”

“If no one told you...how did you find me?” she demands, a strange animal caution glimmering in the depths of her eyes.

It hurts to see it, especially aimed at him, but he grins regardless, “Cadriff.”

Silence. Human and ghoul locked in a staring contest as gentle sea winds rustle around them. Then, with a bark of joy, her head tosses back. He’s lost in the glimmer of sun on her dark hair. She’s lost in laughter. The gearheads have gathered behind her, sharing looks but not moving to intervene. She doubles over, arms wrapped tight to her belly, and her face is cherry red as the laughter peters out into a wheeze. When she finally straightens, she’s gasping.

“Alright, it’s alright. He’s fine to come through. Let’s go, John, you can catch me up on how things have been.”

As she turns away, shoulders juddering with a mumble of “Cadriff” under her breath, Hancock feels light.


End file.
